


The Price

by Gumnut



Series: Tales of Sotto Voce [8]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Science Fiction, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-08-10 00:06:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16459661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gumnut/pseuds/Gumnut
Summary: They both had a price.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: The Price (Part One)  
> A Tale of Sotto Voce  
> Author: Gumnut  
> 29-30 Oct 2018  
> Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS  
> Rating: Mature (for dark themes)  
> Summary: They both had a price.  
> Word count: 1390  
> Spoilers & warnings: Spoilers for Season 2, Sotto Voce and Il Mago  
> Timeline: Set sometime after Il Mago and Father.  
> Author’s note: This one will be posted in pieces as I only have time to write short bits at the moment. I’m also not sure where this is going. Many, many thanks to all my wonderful supporters, I couldn’t do this without you ::hugs:: I hope you enjoy this rather dark start to a story.  
> Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

“It’s him, Scott.”

“It’s him.”

Scott stared at the amber liquid as he tilted his glass in the dim light. The reflection from the desk holoprojector contrasted heavily with the general darkness of the room.

They knew who had hurt them. He knew who had hurt Virgil so badly. Who had violated his mind and tortured his quiet, kind, artistic brother. Threatened his life, his sanity.

The liquid shook and he had to force his hand to relax or risk shattering the glass.

Eos had hunted down every detail she could find. Kayo and Penny had done the same.

And John, with fire in his eyes, had calmly hacked through medical records, bank records and even the clinic’s internal security network.

So Scott could sit here in the dark and stare at the shell of a man who had nearly killed his brother.

They had found money. Kayo and John together had traced it back to known Hood holdings.

They had found scans of the man’s brain. They confirmed that, yes, Percival Fischler was as augmented as Virgil, if not more.

What they could not find was motivation.

And they couldn’t find the source of the technology.

Scott took a sip of the whisky and let the glass drop to the table top.

Technology.

John was a great hacker. Scott had no idea how he did it, but he did. It was one of the reasons why he was on Thunderbird Five. There was very little information denied his middle brother and Scott never hesitated to ask him to exercise those skills if it could save a life.

Scott was no amateur with computer networks either, but John was a magician with code.

He shivered at the thought.

Il Mago.

Scott watched him breathing.

The newsvids had lied. This was not a man on his way to recovery. His medical file reported an inexplicable stroke that had crippled him. Best case scenario was locked-in syndrome, a terrifying condition that has the patient living and conscious, but unable to move at all. Worst case, well, he wasn’t dead, yet.

He shoved another swallow of whisky down his throat and fiddled with the computer controls, panning the camera and zooming in.

Yes, John was a damn good hacker. And either intentionally or not, had given his brother the tools.

Scott could end this all now. With a flick of a switch, the great Il Mago, mind rapist and attempted murderer, would die, taking all the threat and terror he currently held over the Tracy family with him.

He would be _saving_ lives. Most likely that of his beloved brother and best friend. Not to mention his niece, who apparently didn’t stand a chance against this bastard.

The whisky burnt going down.

It would be easy. Untraceable. It would solve so much.

So much.

And Virgil would be safe.

“What do you think you are doing?”

The voice was calm, baritone and familiar. Virgil appeared across the other side of the comms room melting from the shadows like a spectre.

Scott didn’t react. He just took another sip of expensive alcohol and continued to watch the dead man breathe.

“Scott?”

“What do you want, Virgil?”

“I want to know what you are doing.”

“What does it look like?”

“Nothing good.”

“If you don’t like it, don’t watch.” Another sip of fire down his throat.

His brother’s footsteps on the hardwood floor echoed through the dark room. Virgil was pale in the dim light. But then Virgil had been pale for a long time now.

Because of this man.

A simple flick of a finger.

A hand covered his, warm, but slightly rough to the touch. “Please don’t.” His brother’s voice was quiet.

“He deserves it.” And he shook off the hand, choosing control.

“But you don’t.”

He shot a look at his brother, anger giving him energy. “And what? You did? Did you deserve to have that _thing_ shoved in your head? Did you deserve all that pain? The bastard tortured you!” His hands were shaking again. He forced the glass of whisky to his mouth, revelling in the burn. “He damned near killed you. I almost lost you.” And his voice broke on that last.

“I’m still here.” So damn calm. Virgil Tracy calm.

Those brown eyes as calm as the rest of his brother. Yes, he was still here…just. But how much of him was broken? How much couldn’t be repaired? And how long would it be before the bastard came back and tried to take him again? How long before he lost his brother?

He reached for the control, but that hand was back and it grabbed him.

“Please, Scott, don’t do this to yourself.”

He tried to wrest his hand away, but Virgil was stronger in sheer force. His brother hung on.

“Let go.”

“No.”

“Virgil.”

“No.”

Forcing himself to his feet, he glared at his brother. “Let go, or I will make you let go.”

“You can try.” A raised eyebrow and those damned calm brown eyes.

He struggled again and his brother just hung on. A shift in his stance and he tried another angle, but Virgil grabbed him, using his weight to counteract Scott’s movement. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Then don’t. He doesn’t deserve your defence!”

“You do.”

“Goddamnit, Virgil!” And he struck out. Blindly.

His brother dodged, his hold slipping for a moment only to return twice as strong. Scott fought the confinement, using his height and leverage, wrangled himself away. Virgil’s hands fell.

But those eyes were tracking his every move.

“It could all end here! No more living in fear. No more looking over your shoulder. No more waiting for that goddamned bastard to hurt you again!”

The eyes blinked, and for a moment Scott thought he had him. But no. Dark brown reflected the holoprojection and the moonlight, and a solid determination to protect his brother’s soul.

“I will not let you hurt yourself, Scott. He has taken…so much…I won’t let him take anymore.”

“Even if he kills you?!” He spat the words out, frustration climbing his spine. “How much do you think he will take then?” Scott didn’t want to think about it. With Virgil gone… He dropped his head staring at his shoes, shaking it no. “I can’t lose you, Virg. I can’t.”

“You won’t.”

“Hah!” It was a broken sound. “You have your price. You told me so.” He glared at his brother. “This is mine. You! You are my price! I can’t let him…” He shook his head again. “I can’t…”

And he made his move.

Virgil was ready for him, his stocky brother throwing his body between Scott and the desk, forcing him away, towards the windows behind. They wrestled, neither truly wanting to hurt the other. Protection the sole motivation.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps the instinctual need to not hurt his brother, but Virgil got the fore, his foot hooking Scott’s leg and sending them both to the hardwood floor.

Scott let himself go limp, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes. With his lack of resistance, Virgil’s faded too.

“Please, Virg. I can’t…”

“We save people, Scott. We are not judges and executioners.”

“I want…to save you. I have to save you.”

And Virgil was above him, passion in his eyes. “You have. You always do. No matter what happens, you have always been there for me, Scott. I could never ask for more. And I never will.” He visibly swallowed. “There are lines. Lines that should never be crossed. Please, Scott, promise me. No matter what happens, you will not cross that line.”

He stared up at his younger brother, all artistic passion and flare. Virgil was no stranger to the realities of life, the hard decisions, the loss living entailed. How could he ask him this? “I can’t, Virgil. Anymore than you could were the situation reversed.”

The spark in those eyes flared and Scott knew he had made his point.

Virgil opened his mouth to reply, but another voice spoke from the room’s overhead speakers. “Well, this is all very sacrificing and heroic, but I have my own agenda if you don’t mind.” And to Scott’s horror, Virgil’s eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed limp beside him.

“You said something about your price?”

-o-o-o-


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both had a price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Price (Part Two)  
> A Tale of Sotto Voce  
> Author: Gumnut  
> Nov – 14 Dec 2018   
> Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS  
> Rating: Mature (for dark themes and some swearing)  
> Summary: They both had a price.  
> Word count: 2662  
> Spoilers & warnings: Spoilers for Season 2, Sotto Voce and Il Mago   
> Timeline: Set sometime after Il Mago and Father.  
> Author’s note: Finally, here is part two. Sorry for the wait, RL and lazy writing hit me sideways. Again, like all through this series, this ends in a cliffhanger. Sorry. I envision one more part, but then my envisioning has never been particularly good. I hope you enjoy reading it and thankyou for sticking with this universe while I was off writing romance :D  
> Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

John Tracy rarely got angry. He prided himself on his ability to stay calm and calculating in the most stressful situations. It was imperative in his position. However, he had been under considerable repetitive strain over the last few months, and to discover the same invasive element had just waltzed through every defence he and Eos had deployed and once again attacked his brother was the last straw.

“Eos! Evacuate immediately.”

“John-“

“Now!”

“Yes, John.”

One hand pulled up Eos’ status display and an eye followed her into her refuge server and watched her disconnect from the system. The hard lines dropped away and she was safe.

Virgil, however, was not.

His other hand activated a series of sentry programs designed as a last ditch effort to protect Thunderbird Five. At the same time he began killing off services, shutting the satellite down, bringing her to minimal operation, keeping the damn invader out.

A scream echoed across the speakers.

Virgil.

Shit.

He had to keep his brother out of the system. But another presence, most definitely not his brother made itself known.

“John Tracy. Do you honestly think you can keep me out?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Thunderbird Five’s greatest strength is also its greatest weakness.”

John didn’t answer.

“Pretty much like your biggest brother is your biggest liability. Isn’t that right, Virgil.”

A mangled scream of fury.

“Now, now, keep it together or you might panic your brother. He is, after all trying to shut down the very systems that are currently keeping you alive.”

“John, don’t let him-“ His brother’s artificial voice was cut off in another mangled scream.

“Honestly, Virgil, haven’t you learnt yet? Nothing artificial can keep out the strength of a human mind. Not even your pet AI.” There was a rush of activity in the main computer core. “Where is she, Virgil? Do I have to go through you to get to her?”

His brother yelled, pure anger blowing out part of TB5’s electrical circuitry.

“Ooh, fireworks, young Padawan. Don’t kill your brother by accident.”

Unfortunately, John had to agree. Virgil had blown half his lighting and several main circuit relays.

But John wasn’t finished yet. His hands moved, deploying programs, killing systems and generally cornering the presence in the system exactly where he wanted it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, John.”

He ignored him.

“I’m the one with all the cards, aren’t I, Virgil? After all, John, do you want to risk your brother’s life?” Another strangled sound emitted from the speakers. “Or perhaps Virgil isn’t enough. Perhaps I should play with those on Tracy Island as well.” And to John’s horror, the status displays on three of the four Thunderbirds currently safe in their hangers lit up like Christmas trees. “I only have to do this...” Thunderbird One’s fuel cells started heating up. “...and it won’t be long before the rest of your brothers, including Virgil, are nothing more than sooty leftovers.”

“What the hell do you want?!”

“I want Thunderbird Five. I want you gone. I want your little AI to play with. Give me this and I might let your big brother go. If not, consider him and the other three little more than memories.”

-o-o-o-

Scott moved.

He hit two buttons. The general island alarm.

And the button that would kill their assailant.

“Do you really think it would be that easy?” The voice was cold.

He ignored it, rushing back to Virgil, checking his vitals. There were none.

Hell.

Rolling him onto his back, he began CPR. Alan and Gordon tore into the room. Catching sight of their prone brother, professionalism immediately kicked in, Gordon taking half the load of life support from Scott, while Alan ran for a hover stretcher and the tools that could save his brother’s life.

“What happened?” Gordon spoke quickly between breaths.

“That bastard’s got him.”

“Mago?”

Scott didn’t need to answer, a scream echoed across the island’s speakers, so Virgil in pain that it hurt.

Alan barrelled into the room, stretcher in tow, mobile life support equipment dangling from his hands. Gordon grabbed the bag respirator and sealed it to Virgil’s mouth.

“C’mon, Virgil!” The words were forced from Scott’s lips. If they couldn’t get his heart restarted, they had lost the fight before it had begun.

The whine of the cardiostimulator charging sung. Buttons flew as Scott ripped through red flannel. He’d buy him a new one, if he would just live! Virgil’s grey undershirt tore at the hidden seams designed for his chute robotics, leaving his chest bare, his skin goosepimpling, teasing normality, faking life.

Gel.

Paddles.

Clear!

The painful arch of muscles constricting under current.

C’mon, c’mon....

Pulse.

None.

Damnit!

A mangled scream of fury echoed across the speaker system. “John, don’t let him-“ And his brother’s voice was cut off, caught in an expression of agony.

Scott couldn’t afford to react at all.

“Again!”

Gel.

Paddles.

Clear!

Virgil’s body arched again just as the speakers yelled again in that same brother’s voice. Lights flickered.

“Damnit, Virgil! Don’t do this to me!”

Pulse?

He held his breath. A flutter against his fingertips. C’mon, Virg, please. Another. A stutter and his brother’s heart struggled into a beat, not strong, but there.

God.

He caught Gordon’s eyes and the naked pain in them burnt him. “Infirmary now.”

Still breathing for him, the three brothers lifted Virgil onto the stretcher and ran from the room.

-o-o-o-

He was torn from his body.

One moment he was speaking to Scott the next a horrible wrench, a burning blackness and pain.

So much pain.

He screamed.

And screamed.

Time froze and his life with it, but then he was moving. Streaks of white blurred into the black and a voice was threatening John.

John.

His brother.

The bastard was using Virgil to get to Thunderbird Five.

No way.

No damn way.

He struggled, but the black had him held tight, its touch burning. Anger swelled within him and his world lit up in blue and white. It seared through black and for a moment he was free.

But then he wasn’t.

The black wrapped around him again, burning, piercing. Virgil found himself screaming again, but this time in absolute fury. “John, don’t let him-“ The black squeezed, tearing away his voice and replacing it again with pain.

But then the bastard was looking for Eos. Panicked, Virgil looked around, desperate to see through the black, but denied even that. He couldn’t let him near Eos. No.

The fury swelled again, this time the blue was joined by Thunderbird Green. It tore the black, ripping through it and discarding it in pieces. It was Mago’s turn to express pain. Virgil spun, flinging the bastard from him. He stretched and touched current.

“Ooh, fireworks, young Padawan. Don’t kill your brother by accident.”

“Get away from my family.” It was said with threat. It was said with menace. Virgil hovered in the white above Thunderbird Five, glowing white streaked with blue and Thunderbird Green. “Leave.”

The mass of black ignored his stand, continuing on as if he hadn’t said a thing.

“I’m the one with all the cards, aren’t I, Virgil? After all, John, do you want to risk your brother’s life?” Virgil spat at him. “Or perhaps Virgil isn’t enough. Perhaps I should play with those on Tracy Island as well.” And Virgil felt the signal, felt the connection with their ‘birds far below. He hissed as Maggot continued. “I only have to do this...” Thunderbird One’s fuel cells started heating up. “...and it won’t be long before the rest of your brothers, including Virgil, are nothing more than sooty leftovers.”

“I want Thunderbird Five. I want you gone. I want your little AI to play with. Give me this and I might let your big brother go. If not, consider him and the other three little more than memories.”

“No.”

It was said with the upmost calm and the upmost threat.

The black mass coalesced into the humanoid form of Percival Fischler.

He was smirking.

“And what exactly do you think you can do about it, Virgil?” Another signal reached out, this time touching his own ‘bird. Far distant below he could feel her fuel cells ignite, their warmth familiar, but increasing.

“Leave them alone.”

“Give me Thunderbird Five and I will consider it.” The man crossed his arms across his chest, his stance mocking.

“No.”

On his peripheral, Virgil sensed John at work, systems shutting down one by one, sentry programs marshalling. The programs wouldn’t do much more than hamper, but the dead systems were starting to pen them in. It was only a matter of time.

“Leave.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Leave now.”

“Give me what I want.”

Virgil moved towards the Maggot, his fury fueled by fear. Far below TB1’s fuel cells were moving into the red. “Leave or I will make you leave.”

The bastard had the nerve to burst out laughing. Virgil hoped to god it was over confidence.

“I don’t think so, Padawan. In fact, I think you can just die now. I’ll pry your younger brother out of his tin can later.” And Maggot once again turned as black as his soul, inky tentacles writhing, and reached for Thunderbird One.

“No!” Virgil leapt, tackling the darkness. He hissed as it burnt him, he screamed as it stabbed back, but his own fluid form, blue-white streaked in a furious Thunderbird Green, wrapped around Fischler and dug in. He clawed at the white of the network, the swimming current fluid in his state, desperately seeking purchase.

The bastard simply laughed at him.

“Oh, Padawan, you have no idea.” The black twisted and was suddenly a nest of knives slicing into him.

Virgil cried out, a phantom red suddenly mixing with his green, and he staggered back.

Maggot was laughing. “Such a noob. You bleed in your dreams.”

And he dove down to Tracy Island.

“God damn you!”

Virgil leapt after him.

-o-o-o-

The lights of the infirmary flickered and in the distance something exploded.

“What the hell was that?”

Gordon’s expression was beyond fear.

Virgil’s body lay between them, the respirator breathing for him. His heart had stuttered twice, but it was still beating. Scott bit his lip. C’mon, Virg...

“You bastard, you leave them alone!” The pure fury in their brother’s voice tore across the island’s speaker system.

Scott touched his comms. “John?”

“They were both here, but they’ve left. I think they are on the Island with you.”

“Certainly sounds like it.”

“Oh, we’re here, Scott.” And his name was said with such derision it parched the air it travelled on. “Oh, what is this? Another little AI toy?” There was the buzz of wheels on hardwood and MAX appeared in the doorway.

Shit.

“Oh, hoo, hoo, this one is even dumber than the other one. Look, I can make him dance.” MAX began to spin on the spot.

“Leave him alone!” Alan, standing at the end of Virgil’s bed.

“Are you going to make me?” And MAX stopped, his head swivelling in his youngest brother’s direction.

Scott poised.

“No, but I will.” A light exploded raining sparks over the four of them and Scott instinctively flung himself over Virgil.

MAX froze on the spot, his body shaking. Another scream, but not from Virgil. Scott grit his teeth at the wail of pain pouring out of the speakers. It cut off abruptly.

“Sorry, MAX.” Virgil’s electronic voice was shaking.

The little AI collapsed into a mess of metal limbs on the floor.

“Thunderbird Five to Tracy Island. Evacuate order 256. I repeat, evacuate order 256. This is not a drill.” John’s voice was calm but urgent.

“FAB Thunderbird Five.” Scott’s voice creaked. 256 meant imminent explosion, exit via sea only. He turned to his brothers. “Pack up Virgil, all portable equipment, quickly as possible. Dockside asap.”

“Scott-“ Both brothers said his name at the same time.

“Do it.”

-o-o-o-

John wished Eos was with him . He’d grown used to her calm and sometimes lyrical voice keeping him company during the most tense of moments. Giving a full evac order on his home was definitely tense.

Thunderbirds One and Two’s fuel cells were critical and everything he had tried to halt the imminent explosion had failed. Time was running out and he had to weigh the lives of his family against the island, their home and Virgil.

He had no choice.

The two human minds were no longer on TB5, he had managed to track their presence, particularly Virgil’s, by the havoc they were causing in the network. Mago was obviously more practised, though he obviously wasn’t caring too much, his tread was light except where he wanted damage.

Poor MAX. How had they forgotten the little AI and how vulnerable he would be in this situation. If they got out of this, John would make sure he had as secure a server as Eos.

He rubbed his face. TB5 was almost a ghost. He had shut down almost everything. She was just keeping him alive and his connection to the Island.

His fingers flew, desperate to isolate the electronic systems on the Tracy’s yacht. He had to break her away from the network, free her from the danger of Mago.

And in the process, deny Virgil his chance to flee as well.

-o-o-o-

MAX was little more than a baby. He looked up at him with brown, fearful eyes and clung. he didn’t speak, but his face said everything.

“I’m so sorry, MAX.

His little hands tightened on Virgil’s uniform.

“Awww, aren’t you pretty as a picture.” Mago coalesced once again, probably so he could smirk some more. But he stumbled.

And Virgil did not fail to notice.

Though he certainly had no intention of acknowledging the error or the jibe.

Virgil turned away, ever aware of the other man’s position, and darted out of sight. As fast as he could, he flickered through the network, feinting towards the hangers before doubling back and dashing to the server room. A quick assessment and he chose a server, wiping it, he activated a copy of Eos’ cradling software and gently placed little MAX in its confines.

He flung off a comm signal to Brains before overloading the connection to the server and melting the hardware between the z-band network and the now isolated box.

MAX was safe.

A phantom breath of relief.

And black Mago barrelled into him, his writhing tentacles once again wrapping around him and burning.

God, it hurt.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’ll do what I damn well please. This is my home and my family!”

“No, Virgil, you are mine!” And his grip tightened.

Between the pain and fear, Virgil felt himself tipping towards an edge.

He laughed.

He laughed so hard, reality began to retreat. “Yours? You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Virgil was aware of the overloads in progress below in the hangers. He felt the absolute insanity of the creature wrapped around him. He knew his family was fleeing their home, and far above him he felt the lonely breathing of John, ever watching, ever caring.

There was love. For his brothers, his family, his niece, his home, his life.

So much love.

The black was cutting into him.

White flared, blue flared, Thunderbird Green struck into the darkness, but with it a bright red streamed. It hurt, but Virgil was beyond caring.

He tore through Mago. Where the red touched, the black disintegrated. It screamed and tried to flee, but Virgil wrapped around it, his presence tearing, burning.

“LEAVE US ALONE!” It was torn from him. Everything this thing had done to him and his family. Everything it intended to do.

Everything.

Blue-white-green and godawful red seared away the blackness until there was none.

It was gone.

The white of the network pulsed at him.

Silence.

And Virgil just stopped.

-o-o-o-

End Part Two.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both had a price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Price (Part Three)  
> A Tale of Sotto Voce  
> Author: Gumnut  
> 14 - 20 Dec 2018  
> Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS  
> Rating: Mature (for dark themes and swearing)  
> Summary: They both had a price.  
> Word count: 2467  
> Spoilers & warnings: Spoilers for Season 2, Sotto Voce and Il Mago   
> Timeline: Set sometime after Il Mago and Father.  
> Author’s note: All I can say is Poor Virgil. And thank you to Scribbles97 for the reality check at random o’clock. Sometimes I need a little reassurance that I’m not writing rubbish :D Thank you all for all your support with this series. I hope you enjoy part three :D  
> Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother. 
> 
> -o-o-o-

John stared at his status displays. Everything had stopped.

The explosion was still imminent, but the chaos of the two minds assailing the network was gone.

The silence was ominous.

He reached out, a vague hope looming, and once again attempted to deactivate the fuel cell overload in TB1.

He could almost hear the sigh as the reaction shutdown at his command. The sound he made in his own throat was strangled.

He didn’t waste another moment, his fingers skipping across the controls for TB2. She, too, sighed into instructed somnolence.

Oh, thank god.

But the silence continued.

“Scott?”

His eldest brother’s reply was immediate. “Status, Thunderbird Five?”

“Explosion aborted. All Thunderbirds once again under our control.” His hands danced across the holographic surface. “Network appears free of interference.” He bit into his lip. “No sign of the intruder.” And there was none. He scanned, set tracing algorithms, sent out sentry programs, nothing was registering.

“Virgil?”

“Nothing.” His throat was dry. “No contact. I-“ A chill crawled up his spine and fear set in as he repeated words from the last time he had lost someone he loved. “I can’t find him.”

“Can’t-“ The same fear was reflected in his brother’s voice. “Could he have left the Island?”

“Possibly.” Not enough information. “Give me more time. I-“ He cleared his throat. “Further investigation needed. 256 on hold, however, I recommend observation distance until further confirmation of the nullified threat.” It effectively stranded his family on the ocean out of reach, but, yes, he needed further information.

“FAB, John.” Scott’s voice was desolate. “Be advised that Virgil’s state is critical. Full life support, cardiac arrest recurring.” A swallow. “He needs to return now.”

Find him.

It went unsaid, but it tore up the commline.

Voice parched. “FAB, Tracy Island. Thunderbird Five out.”

John stared at the holographic interpretation of the network and, not for the first time, wished it had been he who had been infected with the nanites, not Virgil.

If he had the power to interface, to reach into the network and travel the connections, seek information, surf the virtual world... The brief glimpse of his daughter, the flash of presence that had been his brother, the mere possibilities...it all lured him, but right now, at this very moment, the ability to jump into the network and hunt his brother down would be oh so welcome.

Followed by the only murder he had ever wanted to commit.

And he would do it with no regret.

A frown.

His fingers dashed across the board and brought up the cameras and connection to the hospital room where their nemesis resided. The status display was flashing red. There were doctors and nurses milling around the bed.

But no urgency.

The flatlining cardiomonitor was suddenly cut from the network. The doctors were walking away. The nurses straightening the body on the bed.

A woman ran into the room, obviously upset.

A flicker of a finger and a recording played in a secondary window. Percival Fischler had been declared dead five minutes ago.

The woman threw herself across the bed wailing despite the lack of sound in the connection.

His gut twisted.

He had to find Virgil.

Shunting the information down to the Tracy yacht, flagging it urgent, John crossed the room and palmed the airlock into the computer core.

John couldn’t enter the network, but Eos could.

“John?” Her voice was panicked. “What is happening? Where is Virgil?”

“We’ve lost contact. The network appears clear, but I can’t guarantee it.” He swallowed only now realising exactly what he was about to risk and hesitant to actually ask.

He didn’t have to. The hardlines reconnected with the main network and Eos rushed out. “What happened?” But they both knew he didn’t have to answer. She had connection to everything now and she was pulling up the logs as she spoke. “He’s dying.”

“Yes. We need to find him. Now.”

-o-o-o-

As a child he often wondered what he was going to be when he grew up.

The possibilities were amazing. He could weave music, his fingers dancing across the piano. He could read it, write it, live it.

He could draw. The compliments came from all directions bolstering his confidence. He could paint. He could create.

As he got older that creativity refined itself. He focussed on designing and creating tools that could in themselves create a better world.

“Virgil, son, you are an engineer at heart.”

And engineer he did. Build he did. He grew up and became exactly what the world needed him to be.

He flew. He saved lives. Every hand he caught was a life he contributed to.

Virgil Tracy made the world a better place.

He loved. And was loved.

He touched lives.

And was in turn touched.

That little boy became a good man.

He had no regrets except perhaps that it all was to end so soon.

-o-o-o-

“Virgil?!”

The network flew past her. She spread herself thin, scouring every circuit, every server. He had to be here.

Please be here.

She had learnt that a human’s presence was huge yet mostly hidden in the digital world. Il Mago had been able to slip into the network completely unseen, tripping no alarms, leaving the barest of traces that had taken hours of meticulous work for even John to identify. Yet at the same time able to barrel in smashing code left and right.

And Virgil, new to the realm, tended to stumble even more, leaving traces of his passing that sometimes needed John or Brains to fix.

But now, nothing.

She could feel a sob building. Months ago she knew little of Virgil other than he spoke to her kindly. Her world had been John and Thunderbird Five. Occasionally she would visit Thunderbird Two and they would converse on a variety of subjects. She liked him, despite his tendency to frustrate, but she hadn’t really known him as she did now.

And despite all the pain they had been through, she didn’t want to give that knowledge up, she didn’t want to lose contact with the man she had grown to love as much as she did her father. Differently, but so important.

He had to be here.

“Virgil?!” She sent the data request in all directions desperate for a reply, any indication. “Please, Uncle?!”

No answer.

“Eos?”

Father.

“I can’t find him.” The network flashed by faster. “He’s not here!” Her voice became a wail.

“Could he have left the island?”

She dashed across the external exit ports, her virtual fingers combing through code looking for those trace variable changes that had indicated a human presence in the past. But Il Mago had torn through everything as well, and those variables were in disarray. The ground had been trampled and the trail lost.

“I don’t know.” He could be anywhere. No, please.

“Check the island again.”

“Yes, Father.”

She reached out, every sensor trained, desperate for even a whisper. Anything.

She brushed against a code fragment, buried in recycling.

A single soft piano note executed into the system.

Her processors froze. “Virgil?”

She brushed it gently again. Another note, lower in the octave.

“Uncle?”

She approached the suspect server carefully. Off to the right another server had been cut from the system. She accessed the logs.

Numbers fell into her lap, a jumble of indecipherable mess. The humans had definitely been there.

But where did they go?

Another single piano note, lower again in scale.

“Virgil?”

_That little boy became a good man._

“Virgil!”

_...was to end so soon._

Virgil! Uncle!

The code writing the next piano note collapsed in on itself.

Eos whimpered. Where? She felt she was losing him by the moment. He was here, but where?

The code was clean, she streamed through all the functions, combed through the circuitry...

Something flickered.

Between the lines of code.

And she realised that he wasn’t aware. He wasn’t interpreting his world. She wasn’t seeing herself as he saw her.

She was digital. He was not. He existed between. He was human and she couldn’t see him without his help.

But she was more than the code her father had written, wasn’t she? More than the sum of her parts, just as Virgil was more than electrical and chemical signals running on a biological construct. He had said as much so many times, placed so much trust in her. She was her father’s daughter, her uncle’s niece.

She needed to be more and she was more.

He was here, she knew it. She only had to reach.

She concentrated, drew upon the very essence of who she was. Soft material wafted against her legs. She drew in a breath and opened her green eyes.

And her world wavered, flickered, her sight slipping between the lines of code in ways that she had never managed before, not without her uncle’s influence.

Her processors whined under the load.

“Virgil?”

And there he was.

Ghostly, not entirely solid, his human form flickering to her signal beat.

And broken.

Her whole being cried out at the sight of him.

He lay crumpled, as if discarded, his usually lively face, slack and bruised, his clothes shredded. So many cuts, so many injuries to his being, the very essence of him was draining away.

She ran to him and enveloped him in her arms. “Uncle?”

No response.

And she knew he was dying. She could feel it.

He needed to go home.

“Father?” And she was crying.

“Eos?” John’s voice was fearful.

“I’ve found him, but...” A sob. “You need to get him back on the island now. Now, father, please hurry.”

She felt the signal go out to the yacht far over the water, she vaguely heard her father’s urgent tone, but she turned back to her uncle, lifting his head until it nestled beneath her chin, his hair tickling her nose as it flickered in and out of her reality.

“You can’t do this. You can’t let him win. We need you. I need you. Virgil-“ And words were not enough. He was slipping.

He was human, she had no way to transfer energy, no way to support him. His form stuttered again and she struggled, drawing more energy, cradling him with herself.

“Virgil, please.”

Desperate she flung out a search key, scouring everything she knew about him, looking for a way, looking for something he could cling to.

He flickered again and she cried out. She brushed his cheek with a fingertip.

The echo of that last piano note lay at her feet.

Something he could cling to...

Softly, she began to sing.

-o-o-o-

Scott hit the pier at a run, Virgil’s hover stretcher in one hand, his life support equipment in the other. Gordon ran behind them. No words, only harsh breathing. Their feet pounding in unison across the concrete towards the house.

Behind them were more pounding feet, Kayo’s amongst them as she spoke urgently with John, assessing the security of their situation.

As they approached the villa music carried over the breeze, a female voice was singing.

Scott’s heart lurched. “Eos?”

No answer.

Words formed out of the breeze. Not all of them were intelligible, not all of them English.

“John?” They were through the doors and tearing towards the infirmary.

“Hurry, Scott.”

“We’re moving as fast as we can.” He kicked the door to the infirmary open, shouldering his way through to the bed, docking the stretcher. Virgil didn’t react in the slightest, the machine still breathing for him, his face ghostly. “We’re here.” A moment of hesitation and he decided to hold off on connecting the life support to the main system. “Eos, bring him home.”

The singing continued, surrounding them in sadness intertwined with hope. There was no doubt it was one of Virgil’s compositions. Scott didn’t know which one, but it had a familiar sense, despite the words sometimes not being words.

“Eos?’

No response.

“John?”

-o-o-o-

John was staring at Eos’ code stream. She was drawing far more energy than she had ever drawn before, her systems redlining.

And she was singing. John had accessed the piece of music, desperate for information on what she was doing. He had managed to dig up video, of all things, Eos having recorded it. The time stamp put it two days after he had been electrocuted and was unconscious.

Virgil was playing the piano, obviously tense and worried. Eos queried him, and a weary Virgil patiently explained how playing helped him. Eos didn’t quite understand, but he could hear in her tone that she was trying.

He could also hear the worry in her voice.

He swallowed.

Virgil started playing again, and to John’s surprise, a tentative voice rose with the piano. That same voice singing words of her own choice, and sometimes creation, to Virgil’s composition.

John’s heart clenched.

He had no doubt that the song over the speakers throughout Tracy Island was Eos singing to Virgil. What that meant for his brother...

“Eos?”

The song continued.

“Eos!” He backed up his call with an electronic signal and the song stumbled. “Virgil is on the island. They are ready.”

Still singing, she answered. “Yes, John.”

And her song continued.

-o-o-o-

He was still flickering and unresponsive. She clung to the music, strangely fearful that if she stopped, so would he.

She wrapped him in herself, continuing to cradle him as she reached for the interface. She connected and realised she had no idea exactly how he moved to and from his biological support. Mago had torn him out against his will and even from here she could feel the frayed edges of his network.

For a nanosecond, hate like she had never felt swelled within her. She fought it down, desperate to keep the song untainted. Not now.

She drew him gently across her network, connected with his, and, drifting through damaged neurons, lay him down. There was no fortress this time, only an empty plain, grey spanning everything.

Her song was the only life here.

The words began to catch in her processors. “Virgil?” He lay still in her arms, unresponsive. “You’re home. Please wake up.”

Nothing.

“Please.”

A flicker.

Blue.

White.

Green.

His body swelled and she was flung back, the light becoming a flame that lit up the plain. It expanded and, in a flash, washed across the landscape and was gone.

But now the air around her was electrified, a presence hovered. It was weak and trembling.

Virgil.

She let out a sob, falling to her knees on the sand. “Uncle?”

He didn’t answer, but she could feel his response to her voice. He leant towards her, she felt a touch against her cheek.

Oh, thank you, thank you...thank you.

Thank you.

-o-o-o-

End Part Three.

 


End file.
